


I Can Hear Your Voice

by eccentric_artist_221b



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Are Tony's hugs real or not?, Gen, I'm terrified of Avengers 4, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Has A Heart, this fic is totally up to the reader, this is how i cope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-06-08 23:59:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15254922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eccentric_artist_221b/pseuds/eccentric_artist_221b
Summary: Peter allows himself to believe…just for the briefest of moments that Tony's coming for him…that his mentor is alive…breathing…and so, so worried for him…flying like a madman through the night sky…on his way…on his way…





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: I don't own or profit from anything MCU related. I just have a lot of feelings for a certain heroic billionaire and his precious spider-son.
> 
> If Avengers 4 truly gives us what we all dread…and our beloved Tony Stark actually…ugh, I can't even finish this sentence…  
> IF somethingwere to happen to him, and he goes out in all his heroic glory…well then this is my messedup angst to follow after it…  
> That's right…something that hasn't even happened yet is rolling around in my brain and will not leave me alone…Hence the reason this little piece is very vague. Take it as is. I don't even know why my emotions do this crap to me…especially so late at night…

"I want you to call for him."  
Peter struggles against the bonds keeping his hands suspended in the air, his diaphragm and back muscles scream for relief but he fights and kicks anyway, tears streaming down black and blue cheeks as he shakes his head in a feeble attempt to counter the command.  
He's actually grateful the blindfold blocks out the face of his enemy.  
The voice, alone, makes him tremble….  
A voice that's broken his spirit in only three days…hasn't stopped filling his head.  
He's just spilled everything he knows to it….telling it anything he can think of just to make the pain go away.  
They promised it would stop.  
Peter knows his time is up. He's no longer of any use to this foe he cannot see…so why…why can't the voice just end it? Why is it making him call out for a dead man? Mr. Tony Stark….Iron Man…The center of his world…was gone forever…sacrificed so that he and the rest of the human race could see another day…so why…WHY!?  
"Come on then. Call out for him just like the whiney, little brat I know you are," the voice says again, "It's no fun to kill if there isn't at least a bit of a struggle.  
Peter goes completely limp as a final act of defiance and when his captor roughly grabs his face, the boy spits in the direction he's forced in, satisfied when he hears it hit the villain along with a string of curses.  
Searing pain follows in his side as sobs tear from his throat. He still doesn't know what kind of a weapon it is…only that it feels as if his flesh is being ripped apart and burnt to a crisp.  
Should Peter Parker happen to pull through this…even if there is, yet another, miraculous escape and somehow…he gets the chance to live again, Spiderman will not…  
…because being a hero means bravery.  
It means you get back up…that you don't need to be rescued all the time…that you're…  
I'm just a kid…I'm just a stupid kid…  
'Please, please! I'm down here! I'm down here, I'm stuck!'  
'I don't wanna go! I don't wanna go!'  
He hears his own voice played back in his head and it causes little noises of anguish to bubble out of his lips.  
Mr. Stark always made him feel braver than he actually was…  
And now he's dead.  
"Say it!"  
More pain…So much pain.  
"Say it so I can finally put an end to your misery!"  
And so Peter pretends…  
It's the only way he can override any leftover defiance still stored up inside.  
He allows himself to believe…just for the briefest of moments that Tony's coming for him…that his mentor is alive…breathing…and so, so worried for him…flying like a madman through the night sky…on his way…on his way…  
'Just a bit longer, Pete. Hang on…I'm almost there, kiddo.'  
The pain of bringing such a fantasy to life makes him cry like a baby. His head falls back as he does, mouth hanging open as he heaves and shudders.  
"M-m-mister St-stark," he gasps out.  
"Again," the voice commands.  
"Mr. Stark….Mr. Stark!…MR. STARK!"  
A sinister laugh echoes off the walls, but Peter continues, letting hysteria wash over him, allowing it to make him yearn for something impossible.  
As he wails out the name again and again, he thinks of the mother and father he never got to grow up with…Uncle Ben lying in a pool of his own blood…and Tony…someone who could've healed those festering wounds, but left a lethal one of his own instead.  
He feels a cold pistol press against his forehead and his enhanced senses shoot their signals from head to toe, warning him of imminent death.  
"I know it hurts," the voice says, moving mere inches from Peter's face, "Knowing daddy Iron Man can't come to your rescue anymore."  
Peter takes shallow, little breaths through his teeth, body clenching as he prepares for the shot.  
A crashing sound so loud and sudden makes him scream, twisting his bonds as he tries to dodge whatever it is.  
"Daddy's here,"  
It's a different voice…metallic…low and deadly.  
Peter knows who it is…knows that his mind is completely to blame for it.  
. .  
He doesn't want to lose it…doesn't want to give in to this insanity.  
He hears the familiar high pitched sound of a repulsor blasting beside him…hears the struggle of metal on metal…feels the heat from the explosions and the vibrations of rapid gunfire.  
Shouting…  
Taunting…  
Unadulterated rage….  
Then it's over….   
And there's nothing…  
Just silence…  
And he's scared…he's so scared.  
He needs a sound, any sound before-  
"Pete…"  
He startles violently when he feels a touch on his arm.  
It isn't Mr. Stark…  
He refuses…  
"No…" Peter warns, "No…no…NO!"  
"Shhh, Pete-Pete, hang on."  
"Don't touch me! Don't touch me!"  
"Kid, it's me. It's Tony."  
"No!" Peter wails, bucking backwards even as he feels familiar hands taking off the blindfold.  
He squeezes his eyes shut the moment he sees a hint of light, unwilling to surrender to such delusions.  
"You're not here. You're not here! You're dead! You're dead! I know you're dead! I don't believe you!"  
"Buddy, please…" Tony's voice begs, "Please, stop…just take a breath. Let me help you-no-stop struggling and I promise I'll explain everything."  
Peter's bonds break after a loud explosion directly above him and he face plants hard onto dirt. He had imagined it would be concrete.  
"Sorry, kiddo-"  
Peter still won't look at his rescuer. He takes a fervent swing when they try touching him again, but he's no match for the Iron suit. It grabs for him and pins him to this nightmare imposter of Tony Stark.  
"Open your eyes, kid," the billionaire says, running fingers through Peter's matted, bloody hair.  
When the teen twists again, Tony catches his hand and brings it up to his face, moving the skinny fingers across his cheek and the well groomed facial hair at his chin. "See…it's okay," he murmurs.  
"You left me!" Peter cries. "You left me!"  
"Shhh-"  
"You left m-"  
"Shhh, Buddy, Shhh…"  
The suit disappears and Peter feels himself engulfed in warmth, the gentle shushing continues through his guardian's lips that are now resting against the crown of his head.  
He gives in then, because how can he not when it's this real…with Mr. Stark cradling his head, still trying to calm him down and convince him that this is truth…that he's not just dreaming again?  
And for once…  
Peter can ignore the persistent beeping of the IV he's hooked up to…  
He can block out the doctors, nurses and visitors that continue to try and rouse him…can dismiss the breakfast tray that's wafting such delicious smells up and into his nose.  
Because Mr. Stark said he was here and Mr. Stark would never lie to him. So, Peter's going to trust this time… and he burrows himself deeper into comfort's awaiting arms.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He's scared," May whimpers back, moving to place her hands over Tony's white knuckles. "He's terrified you're gonna disappear if he hopes for it...That's all."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooookay, so what was supposed to be a vague possibility of Peter’s reaction after Tony’s death…has now become Peter’s reaction after Tony’s death…only, Tony isn’t dead after A4…Sorry. Not sorry. I want him alive. *sobs*
> 
> Enjoy this fluff and angst. Its all thanks to @iamanunusuallady , who wanted to have some fluff…any kind of fluff. Well here it is…I hope it doesn’t disappoint.
> 
> This mush is MUSH, ya got it??? Proceed only if that floats your boat:

"Come on, baby. Please...for me?"

It's been over twenty-four hours since Peter has been rescued and placed in a hospital....an estimated five days since he's had anything put into his belly…twelve hours since Peter's refused the food brought to his lips.

May's phone alarm goes off at approximately 7:30pm.

Her tears fall at the sound.

The soft melody is a reminder that they were out of time...that Peter would soon be forced to have a feeding tube put in…that the doctors and nurses could even be on their way at this very moment.

"Tony, please," May begs, getting up from Peter's bed and pivoting the rolling table with the tray of food to the other side. "Can you try giving it to him just one more time?"

Tony squeezes his hands tightly together, staring up at the woman with dark circles under his eyes. "He won't even look at me, May," he says, glancing over at the limp teen who stares across the room with vacant watery eyes.

"He's scared," May whimpers back, moving to place her hands over Tony's white knuckles. "He's terrified you're gonna disappear if he hopes for it...That's all."

When Tony doesn’t move, she continues, "Do you know how many times he woke up screaming your name even before he was kidnapped?"

It isn’t her intention to guilt, and even as she says the words and watches Tony’s body stiffen, she almost wishes she could take back the cruel truth, but what other choice does she have?

"Tony, I am willing to bet everything, that if you would just hold him...you can make him believe…You can still heal him."

Tony's breathing quickens as he listens to May's words. Would this inner turmoil always accompany him whilst caring so deeply for this kid? Would he and the boy ever find some kind of peace together, or were they destined to always cause each other such horrific pain?

"One more time...” May says, “I'll help you. Just...hold him...and see if he'll take the food."

Tony stares down at his shoes for a moment and pushes himself up. The moment he's in Peter's line of vision, the boy turns his face just enough to where he can't see him anymore, fingers twitching as his tube covered chest rises and falls at a rapid rate.

"Hi buddy," Tony tries, cringing when the sound of his voice makes Peter's body startle.

"I know..." he continues, carefully easing himself on the bed. “I know you’re scared,”

Peter feels the warmth of his mentor and squeezes his eyes shut, barely managing to shake his head back and forth to protest against the close proximity. He’s suddenly breathing so hard that it sets off the heart monitor, a small keening sound with each inhale and exhale escapes from his throat and Tony feels sick to his stomach.

"Buddy, hey, listen, shhhh," he interjects, taking the opportunity to curl his hand behind the boy's back while emotions were still spilling, "This is just a dream."

Deceiving his kid feels like a knife to the chest, but nothing is worse than seeing that the lie actually works.

Peter's sobs and panic stop at the false information, his head turns towards him just enough to let his glazed brown eyes peek up at the man.

Tony glances over to May and the woman nods before folding her hands together and praying for this to work.

"I heard you've been acting like a little Veruca Salt to your Auntie M, so I thought I'd come and pay you a visit." This time Tony hooks his other arm under the boy's legs and manages to make enough room to climb up beside him...Peter's eyes are now fixed on his mentor, head leaning back against the older man’s arm.

_Dream Tony was safe. Dream Tony was meant to disappear. Dream Tony's departure wouldn't hurt like the real Tony's had...._

The boy itches to cling, but his arms won't cooperate...thin fingers won't do what he needs them to do, but when Tony suddenly clings onto him instead, his heart settles a little.

A few more tears pool down the teenager's face, he has only the strength to mouth, what Tony guesses to be, 'I miss you,'

Tony clears his throat again and again as he works at his own composure, not missing the empathetic waves rolling over from where May sits. "I miss you more, kiddie,”

Peter's head lulls back a bit, glancing up and down at Tony with eyelids threatening to droop closed. He really studies the older man’s hairstyle closely, the expression practically asking if he had changed it somehow.

Tony chuckles and smoothes back Peter's curls, “Yeah, I fixed it up a bit," he murmurs, "Had to do something about my image before I actually turned full dad."

Peter seems to almost smile, closing his eyes for a second, ‘’Dad,’ he mouths.

"Exclusively yours, kiddo," Tony replies, sending May a gesture to proceed.

The woman takes no time in moving to uncover the tray of food, sliding it within Tony's reach and placing a spoon in the steaming bowl of soup. The billionaire stares up at her as she squeezes his shoulder, hope shining in her expression as she returns to her spot.

With his free hand, Tony grips the utensil in his fingers and spins it as he carefully contemplates his next move.

"Listen…Pete...Since this is only a dream and all, how's about trying some of this... _delicious_...chicken noodle soup for me."

At first, the boy clamps his mouth shut, hours of conditioning himself to refuse any food makes breaking the habit no easy feat, but Tony's just as stubborn, pressing the spoon in till it hits the boy's teeth, and finally, after a little more coaxing and whispered words, Peter relents and swallows the liquid down, coughing when it comes in contact with his dry throat.

"That’s it, kid. Good-good boy." the older man praises, trying to mask the fact that he's about to burst at such a small miracle, "Let's…try that again," he adds, grabbing a napkin and wiping Peter's chin. May covers her hands over her mouth to silence herself, relief washing over her as she watches Peter take another spoonful…and another from his father figure.

The moment Peter gives himself permission to eat, he changes over to the starved creature he really is, gulping the substance down faster than Tony can bring it and gasping as he waits for the next mouthful.

The billionaire halts and keeps the spoon away for a moment, knowing the kid's enhanced metabolism has kicked it into high gear, but also knowing the risks of aspiration.

Peter looks up at him and back down to the spoon, when his lips part again, Tony has to catch the drool that creeps down from the corners of his mouth. “My poor Spider-baby, I know you’re starving," he says with a small, sympathetic laugh. He ignores the tears that fall down his own cheeks immediately after. If Peter’s been reduced to feeling just like an infant lying here in his dad’s arms, well than, he could be one right along with him. He sniffs a few times and May, being the beautiful soul that she is, dabs his face with a tissue when he can’t get to them on his own. “Thanks,” Tony says to her with another sniff, bringing a bigger piece of chicken to his charge.

He’s grateful it goes down easy, but Peter’s barely chewed it before he’s swallowing.

"Slooow down, bud…Its still here...I'm still here. Nobody's gonna take it from you," Tony continues, bringing a noodle and a piece of carrot next.

It doesn’t take long at all before Peter’s eaten the last bite, but Tony knows the kid could probably eat another ten bowls without a problem.

He sees his theory is spot on when the boy looks at the empty tray and then back to him in desperation. “May…my rice pudding in the cooler over there,” Tony says, knowing Peter is likely to lose it if they couldn’t at least curb the awakened monster of an appetite.

Peter’s mouth continues to salivate even as he watches May peel off the top of the container and pass it to his mentor. His stomach screams and he wonders how on earth he was able to ignore such a beast.

“Okay, okay. Here we go,” Tony says as May places it down on the tray, concern creeping back on her face when she watches just how famished Peter’s seems.

“It’s the metabolism,” Tony explains to her as he shovels another spoonful into the kid’s mouth, “Its kicking in now that he’s behaving for us.”

May breathes in and sighs, crossing her arms to her chest and leaning her hip against the end of the bed. “Well, what do we do? I mean, is there something else he needs? I don’t want to hurt him,”

Tony clicks his tongue and sighs too, warring with what the next course of action should be.

“We can’t give it all at once. His stomach can’t take it…and too little would be torture. Go get a few more bowls of the soup, and we’ll settle with that for now, alright?”

May nods and leaves the room, wondering how they went from fearing forced feeding to needing to restrict her nephew from too much in just a matter of minutes.

Peter whines after the last bite of pudding a bit later, so Tony decides to distract, pressing a button to bring the bed back a bit, he lets the kid’s head lay back against his bicep and grabs the remote to turn on the tv.

“Lucky for you…I happen to know they’re playing every single one of the Star Wars movies tonight on the Sci-Fi channel,’ he comments, wishing he could’ve seen the kids eyes light up instead of simply wandering up to the screen for a moment.

As the movie comes into view, Peter’s fingers manage to find their way to Tony’s free arm that’s currently draped over the billionaire’s middle. For a second they can only brush across the dark hair there, but eventually the kid grips his wrist and works to drag it somewhere.

With the last bit of strength, he has left, he carries it to the side of his face and Tony’s heart swells.

“You are one spoiled kid,” he murmurs with a laugh. “Hmm? You really are,”

Peter’s tiny smile all but confirms it, as Tony goes to bring the boy’s head under his chin and massage into his curls and behind his ears.

He turns to see the tv showing the infamous Darth Vader reaching a hand out to an injured Luke, as he reveals his identity to the hero.

“Peter. _I_ am your father,” Tony says lowly into Peter’s ear using his best Darth Vader impression, “Join me, and together we can rule the galaxy as father and son.”

Peter responds with the tiniest sniff of amusement, burrowing as close as he can despite everything he’s hooked up to, and Tony grips him tighter. “How’s this for a good dream?” he asks, assured that Peter would slowly but surely come to realize it wasn’t one.

The boy hasn’t the strength to reply, but Tony knows he’s at peace, accepting what was truth in his own way as the little snores soon follow.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Pete…will you look at me, sweet boy…please?”  
> He’s undone when those puppy eyes finally decide to connect with his.  
> “I’m really here. Tony’s here now.”  
> “M'st Sta…”  
> “Yeah, your Mr. Stark is here to stay…”  
> Tony leaves his thumbs near Peter’s eyes to catch the flood that follows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, this isn't plot, this is whump. I made this for losingmymindtonight and I'm just sorry.  
> This story isn't really going anywhere, and this is really the final chapter, I just needed some feels...so here they are. I'm so sorry to people who were looking for substance...LOL

..............

The morning brings a whole new set of problems.  
Whatever progress Tony had made with Peter, hours prior, were stolen away with its early light.  
The pouring rain on the hospital window and the even beep of the machines they have Peter hooked up to are the only constants Tony can rely on.  
The teenager’s dilated pupils stare up at him in terror as his tape covered chest rises and falls at a sprinter’s pace. The older man’s hands move in to comfort, but Peter’s body gives a violent jerk when he does.  
‘We’re back here again,’ Tony realizes, tasting the misery on the back of his tongue.  
He presses anyway, setting the tray of rice pudding on the rolling table next to the bed and making his movements slow and obvious as he sets himself down on the bed.  
Peter whines, loud and angry, only strong enough to move his head side to side in an attempt at letting Tony know he wasn’t having any of this…  
_…this 'pretending you’re alive’ stuff…  
…this 'you’re back and everything’s fine now’ crap…  
…this 'trust me’ garbage…_  
The teenager still isn’t ready to believe. He’s barely ready to live another day…and this wasn’t 'Dream’ Tony standing here before him now…which means he isn’t safe…not really…because Mr. Stark is dead! He’s dead and he left his kid to fend for himself…  
“Pete, buddy-buddy-easy,” the imposter begs.  
“G-way,” Peter begs back.  
“What?”  
“Go awa-”  
Tony backs up just a hair, ignoring how the two slurred words seem to burn him from the inside out. “I can’t, kiddo…alright?…Don’t ask me to do that.”  
The billionaire is so patient…watching Peter’s restless eyes finding a way out where there wasn’t one…as if they could walk out on their own if given the chance.  
_He hates this…hates it so much…and now the doctors were coming…  
They were both out of time._  
“Peter, you don’t have to look at me…but could you just try and eat a little more for me this morning?…Please?” he continues, running soothing circles over the blanket instead of the boy’s hand. Your aunt and I talked with the docs and they’re not satisfied with your progress, buddy…They wanna…they’re gonna do whatever it takes to fill up that belly of yours.“  
_Nothing.  
Not a nod…a protest…movement…_  
And something in Tony snaps just then, desperation taking the wheel as he climbs up further on the bed and lifts his charge part way in to his lap.  
He settles within himself to ignore the sounds coming from Peter’s lips and the squirms that barely rival a newborn’s as he slides the table of food towards him and grips a spoon of the rice pudding in his free hand.  
The billionaire is nothing like he was yesterday.  
No coaxing…no gentle murmurings…just a stubborn will he hoped would surpass Peter’s as he shoves the metal utensil in to the kid’s mouth.  
It shouldn’t have come as a shock when rice spews in his face the very next moment, but a helpless feeling washes over him and it only pushes his fruitless agenda further.  
Tony brings another spoonful to the teen, but this time Peter fights harder, throwing his head back and grabbing the spoon with a weakened fist, the little bit left sliding between his fingers and on to Tony’s shirt.  
 "That’s enough!” Tony shouts, “You eat this right now, Pete or I swear-”  
The spoon falls down to the floor, and even Peter looks surprised when it does.  
“You want them to stick a tube down your nose…poke a hole through your stomach? Huh!?”  
Tony’s anger cracks when Peter’s face twists in to a sob, knowing he’s planting more fear in a heart that’s already been overrun with it. “…cause that’s what’s about to happen, kid!” he says, voice softening.  
The doctors come in with their equipment as he finishes the sentence and Tony throws the food down and pulls away. Peter’s fingers twitch, eyes darting to the five strangers moving to stand around him as they pull the curtain across the room.  
The head nurse feels the tension and works to bring some composure to both patient and guardian. “I know you were really determined to avoid this, Mr. Stark…but I promise, this is a very simple procedure,” she starts, “ Many kids need assistance with feeding at this hospital, and once we get his energy levels back up, he can go back to eating on his own.” she pauses to press a stethoscope to Peter’s chest, listening for any abnormalities as she smiles down at him, “Let’s just get you out of this critical state, okay?”  
This time it’s Tony who refuses to look at Peter as he listens to the others tear open new medical equipment and prepare syringes of saline and sterile tubes.  
Tony remembers waking up with a tube in his nose while lying half dead in Afghanistan and it makes him nauseous to think about Peter being awake for this.  
He isn’t keen on the other three medical students hovering over to watch his kid’s torture either, but it’s happening. He would have to bear it…this was something he couldn’t protect Peter from.  
The teen can’t fight them off as they circle around him…instead Tony has to endure listening to pathetic little spider-baby sounds coming from behind the wall of white coats, and it only takes one of them to hold the boy still.  
Tony grinds his teeth…Spiderman should be able to take down everyone in the room if he so chooses…  
…at the very least, the pitiful noises he’s making are enough to drive Iron Man to do it for him…  
“Okay, Peter, real quick, alright? You’re going to feel this go in to your nose and it’s gonna be a little icky, so try to swallow a lot if you can, okay?”  
_Here comes the panic._  
“Here we go.”  
As the tube slides up and in to Peter’s nose, the boy coughs and gags when he feels it sliding down his esophagus. “I Don’ wan’-,“ he whimpers.  
"Hang on, Peter. You’re doing a fantastic job,” the nurse comforts as she carries on in her tasks.  
“Sto’-Sto’-” Peter squeaks out, “M'st Sta’!”  
Tony can’t ignore it, dashing over upon hearing his muffled name. He stands at the head of the bed so he can grab the sides of Peter’s face and stroke his cheeks.  
Peter makes another gagging noise and Tony brings his lips down to the boy’s forehead, running his thumbs under the teens ear lobes and down his jawline.  
“My Petey,” Tony murmurs, carrying on with gentle kisses to Peter’s forehead. “ I know, it’s no fun.”  
The teen can’t even cry, just silent sobs with the occasional squeak and it breaks Tony’s heart.  
“Almost done,” the nurse says.  
When it’s finally over, Peter returns to his limp state, gaze drifting off somewhere where his mentor can’t follow.  
Tony presses their heads together and Peter’s eyes close. His body continues to shudder from exhausted sobs as they tape the little tube to his left cheek to keep it in place.  
“Okay, we’ll start him up on the treatments right away, but if he wants to eat or drink anything, it’s perfectly okay to feed him soft foods. Just watch him carefully,” the nurse says before shooing the rest of her team out the door.  
Silence fills the space again but Tony keeps his head on Peter’s…both of them utterly still for a time.  
“Pete…will you look at me, sweet boy…please?”  
He’s undone when those puppy eyes finally decide to connect with his.  
“I’m really here. Tony’s here now.”  
“M'st Sta…”  
“Yeah, your Mr. Stark is here to stay…”  
Tony leaves his thumbs near Peter’s eyes to catch the flood that follows.  
The teen chokes, a strangled sound bursting from his lungs as he excepts it as truth…let’s it pour over his heart like alcohol on an open wound.  
It hurts. It hurts.  
“Breathe, sweet,” Tony coaxes, “Take some deep breaths…in through the nose, out through-good-that’s it. Keep going.”  
Peter does and the billionaire feels his own tears ready to make their entrance, “Hey…Pete…” he whispers, “I love you…and I’m so sorry…so, so sorry…”  
His tears fall on Peter’s face and he uses his sleeve to wipe them off.  
The watery confession doesn’t quite hit the mark as exhaustion takes over his charge’s features.  
“…cold,” the boy mouths, and Tony knows without a shadow of a doubt that this was Peter for 'hold me.’  
Grabbing the blanket at the end of the bed, he takes extra precautions around the new tube, as well as the other wires draping over ribs protruding just enough to set Tony’s paternal instincts in to overdrive.  
He wraps his boy up as best he can, before lying down beside him and tucking unruly curls beneath his chin.  
A few squeaky moans escape against his chest and Tony shushes them with whispers and back rubs, heart swelling when Peter’s fingers cling on tight to his cotton tee.  
He’s out in under a minute, little snores tickling the billionaire’s neck as a nurse returns with the first bag of formula.  
“Oh,” she coos, setting the syringe and other items down on the blanket. “Let’s see if I can do this without waking your little burrito.”  
“I believe in you,” Tony whispers back, making the older woman blush from head to toe.  
As the nurse pulls the blanket away, Peter stirs but stays asleep as she tugs at the tube until the end of it pops up.  
Tony watches her every move, knowing he could very well have to take over should the need arise.  
She fills the syringe with the formula and slowly lets the creamy substance pass through until it’s all gone.  
“He’ll sleep a lot better with his tummy having something in it,” she says with a smile.  
As she leaves them alone once again, Tony settles down for a nap with his boy, making sure the blanket’s wrapped around every part of his charge’s skin before closing his eyes and feeling a long-awaited peace return between the two of them.

**Author's Note:**

> What did I just write?…I am going to leave this to everyone's interpretation. Did Peter really dream it all up, or did it actually happen?   
> Is he in the hospital because of this unseen villain, or because he's actually losing it?  
> You decide....


End file.
